


Shades of Sheen

by Lye_Ve



Category: Michael Sheen - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24857203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lye_Ve/pseuds/Lye_Ve
Summary: What would happen if the main actor of the movie you work in as the lights best girl invites you to his apartment?





	Shades of Sheen

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for fun and not to offend anyone, and I want to make it clear this is not the idea I have about Michael Sheen, nor it is the idea he gives to the fandom in general.  
> I admit I never read 50 shades, so I hope the readers will forgive me if there is some lack of correspondence.  
> I guarantee while writing this fanfiction no fan or Michael Sheen were hurt.  
> I am not English/American mother tongue, so I hope you forgive any grammar mistake I made.

She had just been hired as lights best girl in the production of a certain level.  
After many years of theatre, small film productions and television broadcasts she had finally landed with the big boys, they took her to work for an important Hollywood production.  
She went on the set several days before. She studied the lights, explored angles, colours, set up headlights. Finally, turning around, she noticed a man in jeans and a sweater that was wandering among the set.  
She turned to her colleague, "What is he doing here?" asked, indicating the middle-aged man.  
"He's the main actor." replied the colleague, in a totally logical way.  
"But I thought the main actor was ..."  
“Yes, but in the end, the director insisted on replacing him with Michael Sheen. He never found the other very suitable. " A pooka smile made its way onto the colleague's face. "Don't tell me you like him ..."  
She blushed and stiffened. "Well, I know him ... I mean… he’s famous, here ..." She stammered.  
The colleague turned his back to her and started tinkering with the threads. "OK."  
On the day of filming, her superior put a light meter in her hand with ease and told her to go and measure the light on the set.  
She looked at the tool and glanced over the set. "But ... the shooting is about to begin and Mr Sheen is already on the-  
"I know, but I have to put some lights in place and, if you allow me, this is your job."  
"Yeah ..." she replied while taking a few steps backwards. Then she headed for the set.  
Michael Sheen smiled at her as she was approaching, holding the tool as a shield to cover her face, trying to be professional.  
What was happening to her? She was not a fifteen-year-old girl in her first apprentice test!  
Yet his gaze made her legs tremble. She straightened her shoulders as much as she could and tried to be professional.  
She forced the voice out of her throat just as you could push a piano up a staircase.  
“Good Day, Mr Sheen. " She spoke out of tune like a saxophone with a nest stuck in it.  
He smiled as if he had heard a lark chirping. "Call me Michael. - he looked around - We will have to work some time together, better avoid these formalisms, right? "  
She looked at him, then looked at the exposure meter and again looked at the actor and put the tool in front of him.  
"I must check your hotness!”  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"No ... I mean, the temperature of light, for the director."  
He laughed amused.  
On that moment she wished she was a layer of lava, hot enough to pierce the floor and disappear into the earth forever. To calm down she kept repeating to herself she was there for a specific duty, so she went around him a couple of times with the light meter, she marked a few numbers and then ran away.  
Throughout the day she was torn by the desire to drop the job but she certainly could not: that was her job, what would she do next? In the end, she set her mind she had to be able to make up for it, she was basically a pro, this was a temporary work then it would all be over.  
"Yes, for a little while and then it will all be over!" She repeated herself loudly while she was exiting the studios, watching her feet quickly tread the dark driveway asphalt.  
"What will be all over?" asked a voice beside her.  
She jumped back and let out a shrill scream.  
"Incredible, from the way you spoke to me today I didn't think you could bring out such power of voice."  
She tried to seem casual. "Mr Sheen, what a coincidence to see you here ..."  
"It really isn't a coincidence, I was waiting for you."  
From her mouth came a sound, like a slowly deflating balloon.  
Michael Sheen held out his hand to take her out. “I inquired, and they told me that you are not new to being the Best Girl, so I asked myself why you were so clumsy today, I would not want you to be put at risk by my presence. Would you like to get acquainted? Let's have a chat. "  
The deflating balloon sound didn't stop.  
"Provided that you have no commitments. Maybe you have any? "  
She shook her head. "No. I ... Okay. "  
She followed him down the exit.  
They took a taxi which stopped at a residence slightly outside the city.  
It did not have the appearance of one of those four-star residences lit 24 hours a day with a gold-plated staircase handrail and the red carpet.  
“Finally, - he said - we’re far from the madding crowd!”  
"Do you live here?" she asked, a little surprised.  
"This is my Kingdom of Heaven. When I'm in this city I prefer avoiding crowded places." he replied while paying the taxi driver.  
"You are looking around to see if there are any restaurants, aren’t you? - he smiled - Don't worry, I won't starve you. " He helped her coming out of the taxi and headed for the entrance.  
The building was new and had a sober decor. They entered the elevator and she began to look around so as not to meet the actor's gaze. Her feet were restless.  
"Elevator panic?" He asked.  
"A bit'..."  
"Don't worry, here we are." The door opened on a cold-coloured corridor.  
He approached a mahogany door, opened it with a magnetic card and made her enter with a gesture and a smile.  
"This is your apartment?" she asked.  
"Yes, for some special occasions."  
She turned around. "What?"  
He echoed her: "What?"  
She looked around: Opposite to the entrance there was a door leading to a small kitchen, on the right one leading to the bathroom, another open at its side was showing a rather sober bedroom and then, on the left, there was another door, closed.  
While all the other doors were mahogany, she noticed that the closed one was teal.  
"How curious, that door is of a different colour."  
Michael ran his tongue over his lips, raised his chin and gazed at her intently.  
“That is my special room. The Alice in Wonderland door. You know, I have... particular tastes... "  
She smiled, embarrassed. "Oh, damn, a little eccentric like all the actors, isn’t it..."  
He tilted his head and looked aside, thoughtfully. "Yes, you can call it like that. - He began to stare at her again - Do you want to go inside? You know, just to break the ice. Chit-chat."  
She shrugged looking at the teal door and swallowed. "Why not?"  
Michael went to the door and pulled out a key from behind the frame. "I keep it closed, not even the housekeeper knows where the key is."  
He motioned for her to come closer. She moved behind him and finally saw the room.  
On the teal-coloured walls stood out a big amount of pictures: Michael Sheen’s portraits: prints of all the drawings and photos elaborated by his fans. Michael Sheen with a sheep’s face, Michael Sheen with a dog’s face, deformed photos of his head, abstract portraits, in oil, in pencil, caricatures, photo morphing.  
She stood in the doorway, so he gently pushed her in. She turned and noticed a small mini bar fridge. Next to it, there was a dressing table with some drawers and a few leather and wood small cases on it.  
He stepped on the light teal-coloured carpet, too: she noticed it was decorated with many small brown triangles.  
She pointed a finger at the dressing table. "Those ... are those handcuffs?"  
Michael smiled. “Oh, yes, a souvenir from a show where I played a murderer. He was good at toying with people’s minds so they kept him handcuffed. Psychological disorders. - He paused - Curious about how I felt comfortable playing the part. But please, take a seat! " He stretched an arm to indicate a two-seat burgundy sofa, then he put his arm around her shoulder and led her sitting on a purple cushion. He sat on the mustard-coloured one at the side, without taking the arm off from her shoulder.  
Now Michael's face was close to hers.  
"You know, sometimes, I like to start with something ... Stimulating. Something that, once seen, cannot be unseen. "  
She swallowed, tried to act casually, smiled too, but Michael's face was serious as his free hand slowly approached her legs and slipped into the space between their thighs. His fingers moved slowly.  
Then he pulled out the remote control from under the cushion and smiled lightly.  
"Ah, here it is! Naughty one! It always slips between the cushions! Does it happen to you too? "  
He got comfortable on the sofa and turned on the 65-inch HD TV.  
Strange titles on an electronically coloured landscape flowed before the girl's eyes in an unfamiliar language, perhaps German.  
She turned her nose up and asked: "What the..?"  
"Well, it’s a fairy tale. In this movie there are princesses… - explained he proudly - horses ... -he raised her voice making it more guttural and got up - BEARS! AND GIANT FISH! As you've never seen. Princesses ... riding giant fish! "  
She was speechless.  
"Have you ever heard of "The singing and ringing tree? " asked he naively.  
She shook her head and looked at the whole movie a little in shock, glancing alternatively at Michael and at the subtitles, while he hugged her every time the movie changed the scene and spoiling every next one.  
When the film had finished, Michael's grip on her shoulder became softer, and she heaved a sigh of relief because her arm had fallen asleep.  
Then Michael took her by the shoulders again and pulled her in front of him. "So what do you think?"  
She grimaced and thought about it. "Uhmmmm..."  
The actor smiled. "I know, it is always a bit tiring to start a conversation about this movie. Let’s do something else then. I want you to do something special, - his voice became softer - which will make your tongue melt.”  
Her heart began to beat faster as his face approached.  
His cheek brushed against hers and she felt the hair of his beard. Then he whispered in her ear. "I have some good omens about you. I know you can do it. Repeat with me - he said softly - Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch."  
She got paralyzed. "I beg your pardon?"  
"Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. Say it for me. "  
"I can not."  
Michael frowned. “But for me, it would be beautiful. Can't you make an effort? "  
She barely pronounced an 'Iaiafah ... goegoegoegoe'  
“This is quite disappointing. - his voice had lowered, in a serious tone - I think I will have to take serious measures. "  
He quickly got up and went to the fridge. "Stay there." he said gravely.  
He opened the small white fridge, pulled out something, but she couldn't see what it was. He fumbled a little above the small dressing table, then opened a small velvet chest and took out something. He made the move so she could see what he was picking: it was an earring.  
Another minute passed, then Michael turned.  
In his hand, he had a small tray with three sandwiches and a small green plant mister next to it.  
He smiled, came over and placed it on the cushion of the sofa where he had previously sat. He leaned in front of her.  
"We play a game. - indicated the sandwiches - In one of these, I put the earring you saw. "  
He looked at her and smiled. "Do you know Russian roulette?"  
She nodded.  
“Well, choose a sandwich. We will eat a piece each. Whoever finds the earring loses. "  
"... and the loser, what has to do?" she asked in a hesitant voice.  
"They do everything the other says. But there is something more. " he stood up and took off his jacket. He was wearing a white shirt. "If the bite is empty, the eater sprays himself with it." He picked up the mister.  
"But ... If I soak my clothes then ... Outside is ..."  
He put a finger on her mouth. "Shhh ... Don't worry, we'll find a solution. Now, please choose a sandwich ... "  
She stared at the sandwiches for a few seconds then took one in her hand, looking Michael in the eyes, but no sign of approval or dissent leaked from his face. He took the sandwich from her hand and tore off a piece. "I start." he said, and put the piece in his mouth, chewing slowly. Then he took the water mister and sprayed his shirt. Finally, he took another piece of sandwich and handed it to her.  
She bit it and there was no earring in her bite. He sprayed her sweater with water.  
After a time she couldn't define, the sandwiches ended.  
She could see Michael's chest hair through her white shirt, while her blue sweater was utterly sloppy. A few hours earlier she might have considered the sight of his hairy chest as something attractive, but at that moment the embarrassment and coldness were prevailing and she only wanted to take off her sweater.  
"So, nobody found the ring… - she murmured embarrassed - now I can go.”  
“Who said there was no ring? " He interrupted.  
He stretched out his hand near her cheek, stroked her ear and then withdrew his hand making some movement with his fingers.  
The earring fell to the ground.  
"Oh, damn it! This trick never comes to me! " He exclaimed with disappointment. Then he jumped up.  
"In any case, you lost."  
"But ... It's not fair! You had it from the beginning! " she complained  
Michael smiled and raised his eyebrows. "Yup! Obvious! Did you really think I would risk choking a guest with an earring in a sandwich? "  
She felt extremely naive, and blushed, then a shiver ran down her spine.  
He leaned over her again.  
"Now, you have to tell me what flavour you like."  
"F-flavour?" She hesitated.  
"I, they say I have… particular tastes. But you look like a girl that likes it in a classic way. A vanilla girl. Soft. - He put his hand over her eyes - Close your eyes and don't peek. "  
A few minutes passed, she heard him tinkering with some stuff around her, then she felt his warm hand on hers as he opened her fingers.  
He then tightened her hand on something solid, somewhat cylindrical, and rough. She kept her breath.  
"Now, open your eyes."  
She had a vanilla ice cream cone in her hand. Michael sat down, he had one with mint and chocolate, It had the same colour as the carpet.  
"I hope you like it."  
"Uh? Oh yes. Classic." she smiled and tasted the ice cream, exhaling relieved.  
He let her finish before talking again.  
"Now - he went on - would you like to tell me that thing?"  
"...thing?" she said absently.  
"Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch."  
"What? Again? I can not. Please no…"  
Michael made a long pause, his lips tightened.  
Then he spoke. “Look, I didn't want to come up to strong methods. I don't like making people cry, but you don't leave me any other choice "  
He got up again, went to the make-up toilet and pulled something silver from another box on the dressing table, and something else from a drawer. Then he went to the refrigerator.  
He turned around hiding his hands behind his back. She noticed that he had put on a pair of dark glasses.  
"Cry?" she said in a weak voice. She withdrew to the side of the sofa.  
"Yes, even if you don't want to look, it will be something that will always remain within you. Just like that movie. Unthinkable! Once seen, you will never forget it. It will make you cry much, much more than you imagine. "  
Finally, he showed his hands.  
In one hand he was holding an onion. In the other, a vegetable peeler. Without her even realizing it, he began using the peeler to peel the onion under her nose.  
She started to cry.  
"Seen? - he said softly - Anyone cries with an onion! "  
"I'm not crying because of the onion ... - she sobbed - but for the way you are peeling it!"  
"And it's terrible, isn’t it?" He said.  
She nodded.  
“To make me stop you just have to say a word. You know what it is. "  
"Please, no ..." she wiped the tears from her face.  
He took a box of Kleenex resting on the low table near the sofa and handed it to her.  
"Thank you…"  
"Don't thank me ... you will continue to cry if you don't say Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch."  
He continued to slowly remove thin layers of skin from the onion. The difficulty of the operation was quite evident, but he kept on.  
"It is not humanly possible!" She protested.  
“Honey, I didn't think you were such a difficult girl. You take me to extremes that I never imagined. Even though ... "Michael stood up, put the onion and the peeler on the desk of the dressing table, and took something long and shiny out of a black case.  
He turned slowly.  
He had a barber's razor in his hand.  
She screamed.  
Now she was paralyzed with fear. She hoped it to be a nightmare, but the blade reflected in her eyes the light of the chandelier: it was dazzling, shiny and sharp.  
Michael came up to her face and put the blade between them, near her eyes.  
“It is your last chance. This will do much more harm to me than to you, trust me. " and nodded seriously.  
When he moved his hand she screamed, shielding her face with her arms. She would never have believed that her life would end because of the name of a city in Wales.  
But nothing happened. She felt he was still and silent, and when she opened his eyes again, Michael smiled. "Well, now that you're watching I can start."  
Michael approached the blade to his throat.  
"What? You don't ... oh my God you don't want to ... "  
"Yes!"  
With the eyes of her mind, she already saw the blood-stained sofa, the splashes from the jugular arrived at her face and on the sweater and Michael falling to the ground lifeless. How could she explain it to the police? Michael Sheen dead ... because she couldn't say ... she didn't say ...  
"Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch!" She shouted.  
Michael smiled and stopped his hand. “I knew you could make it. Although honestly, I didn't want to go that far. You know, shaving on cold skin quite hurts. My last five girlfriends surrendered earlier. It was a good fight."  
"S-shave?" she asked in a breath.  
“Of course, what would you do with a shaving razor? Besides, you don't know what a nuisance it is to grow a beard again! "  
"The beard ..." she shivered.  
"But now we are a little too wet, don't you think?" He began to undo his shirt, then took it off and left it on the ground.  
Then he leaned over her, his chest close to her face, and with a quick movement he took off her sweater.  
She sneezed.  
"Quite delicate. You don’t stand cold? What a horrible host I was! "  
"No ... - she looked embarrassed - The fact is… a chest hair arrived in my nose and ..." She realized she was in front of Michael Sheen in a tank top. She blushed and tried to cover herself with her arms.  
"Don't worry, I won't let you go home like this! And I’ll let you go home right now, we’ve actually crossed the timeline." He ran to a corner of the room, pulled something out of a chest of drawers and slipped it on as quickly as he had taken off her sweater.  
She tried to look at what it was, but he handed her her coat.  
"We have to be on set early tomorrow morning, don't you think?"  
She nodded. She was beginning to realize that she hadn't understood anything about that evening.  
He accompanied her to the front door, then took her hand and kissed it.  
"It was a pleasure to spend the evening with you."  
He smiled and went back to the room.  
After he closed the door, she opened her coat and looked at herself.  
He had put on her a white T-shirt with writing on it. She tried to read.  
It said: "Michael 'serious actor' Sheen did nothing wrong"


End file.
